


to fight, to try

by soldierwitch



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 2x06 Speculation, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwitch/pseuds/soldierwitch
Summary: High off the adrenaline of a near death experience, Maria decides to go see Michael for the first time in weeks. There's something about fighting for your life that makes you think of where you want to be when the battle's over. That's how Maria finds herself on Michael's doorstep wanting to try again.2x06 speculation
Relationships: Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	to fight, to try

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is a little something I wrote when thinking about 2x06 and how I'd want a Marichael reunion to go down. It's canon compliant up to 2x04 because I wrote it before 2x05 aired. I hope you like it. Stay safe and stay home if you can, y'all.

Maria parks in Sander's junkyard. The lights are still on in Michael's Airstream. She hasn't spoken to him in weeks. He left a few texts and one voicemail but other than that he's been giving her space.

When you're angry you don't appreciate those things. You just want to be a continent apart. You want to stretch land far and wide between the person who hurt you and yourself. It feels like that's the only way to go on living, to cope, because when you think about them being a drive away your heart takes that drive for you.

It plays sad songs on the radio and keeps the windows rolled up, boxes you in so all you can feel is the sadness and all you can hear is the pain. Maria hates that feeling. It's not the only thing she runs from but it's up there on the list. You don't let people hurt you like that and get away with it. You're supposed to cut them out. Leave them hanging high and dry like they left you. It's the way of things. It's how it's done.

But Maria spent the day running scared. Her breath was ragged as she fought for her life. She kept thinking about her mom. Who would take care of her? Who would she come home to? Not many people care what happens to Mimi DeLuca. Maria can count them on her hands and maybe a few of her toes if she's being generous.

She thought about Alex, running beside her, fighting with her. They were determined to get out together. To live, to see another day. They weren't done with life. Weren't done singing songs in the car and cracking jokes. Weren't done dreaming and reaching for the bits of life that was theirs, the ones they stole for themselves and made their own.

Maria thought about Liz, and the talks they'd yet to have. The bridge they had yet to mend. She hadn't gotten to sit with her and Rosa and breathe in. Maria just wanted to be with them and feel like she did when it was the three of them taking care of each other, looking out for each other, being different and the same and one all at the same time. A unit. A family. 

But the thought Maria hadn't been prepared for was Michael. She heard him whispering in her ear. Telling her to get up. She thought about him, and what she would miss, and she ached. She ached so bad that it felt like the world folded in on itself. Like if she gave up now she'd never see him again and the last time she saw him he'd been leaving. Maria had thrown him out.

It's what she needed at the time. For him to be gone, just away from her where he couldn't hurt her, where he couldn't bury his way into her heart and convince her to trust him, to believe him, to see him. But in the cornfield, the distance she wanted disappeared. He was right in front of her and if she could just get home then she could see him again. She could...

Maria opens her truck's door. She doesn't mean to shut it hard but part of her is still running on adrenaline. It's why her rap on Michael's door is so sharp and firm and urgent. She chose fight in the cornfield; she's still fighting.

"What," Michael grumbles, loud and rude like he is much of the time, but when he sees that it's her, he stops and goes quiet.

Michael's not a quiet person but Maria appreciates it in this moment because it means she can just look at him. He looks rough. Some of that is sleep but she can see in his eyes that the tiredness there isn't only from working.

"Maria," Michael whispers, and she sees the moment he gets self-conscious, how he shirks back a bit. She doesn't like it.

Maria pushes into his home by touching his stomach and eases past him. Michael lets her. Sometimes that seems to be their thing. He lets her near when he's not sure what else to do or how else to be. Michael's soft in that way, and Maria's not sure how many people know that.

"What are you doing here," he asks, once she's turned toward him. When he sees the blood on her shirt he's immediately in front of her hand hovering by her side. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Maria smiles at the tightness in his voice, how instantly he's ready to fight. It's not a trait she finds attractive but it's something about him she's grown used to. Michael would fight with a paper bag if it looked the wrong way at him. His anger issues are his problem, but it's nice to be thought of in that way. For him to want to look for a target and handle it even if she can handle it herself.

"It's not mine," she says, touching the blood stain herself. It's not a badge of honor, it's a marker of her survival. She fought and she lived and she's here and she...well, she wanted to see Michael so here she is.

"I got into a bit of a scrape," Maria says without elaborating. "I'd say you should see the other guy but," she shrugs. "It'd be a waste, and I'm really tired of wasting things."

"What have you wasted," Michael asks, confused. There's a curl falling into his eyes that Maria always has an urge to push back. If there's anything about Michael that's cute it's that damn curl.

"A lot of things," Maria says. "Time mostly. Though I was justified in that. You hurt me and it wasn't like all I needed to do was lick my wounds and move past it."

"Maria," Michael says. "I'm sorry."

The thing is Maria believes him. She believed that Michael was sorry when he told her the truth, but he was sorry for all the wrong reasons. Michael is selfish. He was sorry that he hurt her, but he wasn't sorry for what he did. Ashamed maybe. But he chose his family and he wasn't sorry for that even if it broke hers.

"I know," Maria says. "It's not enough, but I know."

Michael clears his throat and takes a step back. He does that sniff of his like he's rustling up bravado to drape himself in. Times like these he's all smoke and mirrors.

"Why are you here," he asks, packing as much of his emotion away as he can, but Michael lost the ability to hide from her a long time ago. Maria can see through the cracks in his armor.

"To keep a promise," she says.

"To who?"

"To me," Maria says shrugging out of her jacket. She winces a little, still a bit rough from the fall she took.

Michael doesn't help but his eyes say he wants to just as much as they say that he has no idea what is going on right now.

Maria takes a deep breath and lets out what she'd been holding in. "I spent the day fighting," she says. "I spent the day fighting, and I thought about all the people in my life. The people who have a piece of me. I thought of them and kept fighting, kept moving."

"Why were you fighting," Michael asks concerned. He wants to touch her. Maria can see it. He needs to touch but he's not, and it makes Maria step forward to stand as close to him as she can.

"So I could come home," she says, and slides her hand into his hair, pulling him down to her for the kiss she's wanted since she hit the road, wheels spinning, running from danger straight to him.

When Maria kisses Michael he makes the smallest, pained sound. He whimpers into the press of her lips against his. Maria can feel the tremble in his hands as they hold her hips.

He breaks away first. "I can't," he says, his voice half broken, half hurt. "Not if...you made me leave."

"Because you couldn't stay," Maria says. "I was...you were supposed to be safe. This town it's never safe for me, but you...I couldn't...I couldn't..."

"Trust me," Michael says, finishing her sentence.

"Yes."

"What's changed," he asks, hands slipping beneath her shirt, tracing circles into her skin. It's an unconscious habit of his when he holds her. A habit that makes Maria feel cared for, a habit she missed.

 _Everything_ , she thinks, but really nothing did. Her world just narrowed and Michael was a part of that world.

Michael with his stupid hat and strong hands. Michael with his terrible jokes and that hitch in his laugh when he finds something really funny. Michael and the curl of his tongue around her name.

"I stopped looking for safe."

Michael shakes his head, starts to pull away. "I don't want--"

"There's no such thing as safe," Maria says, interrupting him. "That's for people behind iron gates, people who don't live. I'm never going to be safe, but at least I'm alive, and when I'm with you that's how I feel, alive."

Michael stops. "What?"

"Guer," Maria starts. "If you're looking for a grander speech, I don't have one. I just have me. So if you want--"

He kisses her quiet, pulling her closer, hands pushing all the way up under her shirt.

Michael steps forward and presses Maria against the fridge. His Airstream is a tight fit for them. They ping pong from surface to surface until they reach his bed, Maria laughs through Michael's kisses.

"It's like being in a doll house," she chuckles, but he shushes her, gently leading her down to the mattress.

"I said nothing about your bed in the Pony," he says kissing down her neck.

"That's because you were busy trying to wear out the boxspring."

"Damn right."

Maria licks into his mouth and drags his hand further up her shirt to cup her through her bra.

He laughs into her neck. "So we're not going to ease into this then?"

"Oh, I've got something you can ease into," Maria says, pulling on his belt buckle so he's more firmly between her legs.

Michael's breath hitches as he laughs, and Maria smiles into his shoulder. She missed that. She kisses his neck. She missed _him_.

Maria's arms go around Michael and pull him closer.

"So, not complaining" he says. "But I can't exactly get to your tits like this. I mean I think that's a nipple I'm feeling--"

Maria slaps at his shoulder. "Shut up and let me hold you." She shudders, blinks away tears. "You hurt me," she says on a sigh.

"I know," Michael says, he can't pull her any closer than she already is, but he tries.

"Try not to do that again."

Michael rubs at her side. "Don't people usually say, 'Don't do that again'?"

"If I did that you'd fail."

"Wow."

Maria rolls her eyes. "We'd all fail, Guerin," she says. "One day I might hurt you. The important part is trying not to do that."

"Oh," Michael pulls back so he can see Maria's face. "I'll try," he says like a vow. Then he kisses her cheek and says it again. Kisses her neck and says it again. Michael keeps saying it until he has her shirt off and her bra off and his tongue is too busy to say the words.

Michael spends the rest of the night making that vow to Maria with his hands. He presses the vow into every touch. His mouth leaves it under the curve of her breast and in the folds of her cunt. His tongue traces it across her clit, every pass and suck a promise. His fingers press it into her over and over, rubbing up and hitting the deepest part of her.

When Maria breaks around the vow, he keeps going, loving her the best way he knows how, pulling her leg around him, and pushing that much deeper, making promises with each thrust. If this is what it means to be alive then this is what he wants, Maria holding onto him as he tries.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated.


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